Visiting Margaritavilla last night gave me the first opportunity in a long time to get an update on my friend George (not his real name). Thailand has a thousand George's walking around... People squeezing the last dregs of favors out of associates in the hopes that some monumental money-making opportunity will fall out of an alcohol-hazed sky and everything will be bright and sunny again. I will admit that it happened before for this particular George, but the sky was much less hazy back then.
We really only hear about Thailand's success stories... or legendary horror stories of deals gone horribly wrong. In between are thousands of people who go quietly home with their tails between their legs. Those are the lucky ones: The ones who recognize that it is time to cash in their chips and head for safety.
George, on the other hand, seems to be failing to recognize his situation, although more likely I believe he is playing some "Leaving Las Vegas" end-game scenario, where an early death is preferable to calling it quits and going home. There are a lot of people in Thailand who do that: I've met 2 of those people. It's a sad sight to see. George is funding an alcohol-ridden ride to oblivion on whatever money he can scrounge together from people who once respected his business acumen and integrity.
I hate to say it, but I hope something really bad happens to George... and soon. Why? Because at this point it is a choice between one really bad thing happening which brings George to death's doorstep (and then hopefully to the doorstep of a plane headed home immediately thereafter), and the choice of hundreds of days of small bad things happening to George, each one chipping away at George's health, sanity, and ability to recover fully from what he is doing to himself.
Thailand has beaten George. George's poor business decisions have beaten George. The bottle has beaten George. I just hope George doesn't think that dying is his only way out of Thailand.
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